


Checked Luggage

by sponsormusings



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4332312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sponsormusings/pseuds/sponsormusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>8 hours on a plane next to a drunk guy, an irate older man arguing with a flight steward, and an accidental stealing of someone else's suitcase from the airport. It wasn't exactly the way Katniss Everdeen had expected her overseas business trip to start.</p><p>But she also hadn't expected the owner of the stolen suitcase to be the hottest guy she'd ever seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checked Luggage

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the prompt - "We accidentally switched our suitcases from the airport terminal AU", as well as "Airport AU–Everlark bonding solely via eye contact over some annoying person on their plane/at their gate that they’re both slowly becoming more and more exasperated about."

_Red. Pink. Black. Black. Another black. Pink again. Green. Hawaiian print? Blech._

The suitcases continued to loop around in a never ending circuit, all different shapes and sizes and colours. The longer she stood there, the more suitcases appeared on the conveyor belt, as though every person in the damn world had been travelling on her flight. And right now, they were just preventing her from doing what she really wanted to do.

All Katniss Everdeen wanted as of this moment was to get to her hotel, have a shower and scrub the last 8 hours of sitting next to a drunk guy falling asleep on her shoulder off of her skin. And order a meal and the largest alcoholic beverage she could from room service.

She glanced at her watch, noted that she’d been waiting close to 15 minutes already. It probably wasn’t all that long in the grand scheme of things, but she’d already seen a few people arrive after her and saunter off with their Samsonites, iPhones already up to their ears as they reconnected with the world.

Keeping her eyes trained on the endless cycle of bags, she repeated the description of her own like a mantra.  _Grey with black stripes, 3 orange locks, and an orange luggage tag. Grey with black stripes, 3 orange locks, and an orange luggage tag. Grey with black stripes, 3 orange locks, and an orange luggage tag._

She’d picked the suitcase in the hope it would kind of stand out amongst the majority of other standard block coloured ones, and while it did, she was glad she’d listened to her sister, Prim, when she’d stood in the Travel section at Walmart. “ _Go with the orange for accessories_ _,_ ” she’d said, grabbing the fluorescent pack of locks. “ _No one ever picks orange, and it’ll make it stand out even more_ ”.

And Prim had been right. While there were a couple of suitcases that  _kind_  of looked like hers, the flash of hot pink or blue or standard silver or gold locks made her thankful for Prim’s practicality.

Katniss almost let out a yelp of delight when she saw her suitcase slide through the thick black strips of plastic and join the queue. She tugged it off gratefully when it appeared in front of her, yanked on the handle immediately and turned to head for the exit.

She almost collided with someone in her haste, and while she muttered a quick apology to the blond guy she almost shoulder charged, she didn’t stop to say anything else, simply followed the signs that would take her to the subway and towards her shower.

********

“Welcome to London, Miss Everdeen, we hope you enjoy your stay.”

Katniss smiled - though it probably looked more like a travel-weary grimace - at the receptionist, before moving towards the bank of elevators. So far so good, she thought. The subway -  _the tube_ , she reminded herself for the third time - had gotten her to within half a street of her hotel, and the hotel itself looked nice. Pale green walls, a lot of dark brown furniture, all topped off by staff surrounding her who had perfect English accents.

For the first time in a month, she actually felt okay about being in a foreign country on her own.

Her boss, Beetee, had casually mentioned the sustainability conference to her over six months earlier, and she’d baulked when he’d asked if she’d attend. She wasn’t great with flying in general, but over water? Over  _seas_?

No thank you.

So when he hadn’t raised it again, she’d thought herself home free - until he’d blindsided her with the ticket and conference details exactly one month earlier, and told her she was going to be the representative of Beetee Engineering and Design whether she liked it or not.

The elevator pinged, breaking her out of her reverie, and the doors in front of her slid open smoothly. She tugged on her suitcase and made her way down the carpeted hallway to room 1212, where she slid the keycard in the slot.

And breathed a sigh of relief as the door swung open and revealed a room that perfectly matched the pictures online. For the next week, this was home sweet home.

Dropping her carry on bag onto the dark wood desk, Katniss lifted her suitcase onto the bed, desperate to drag out her pyjamas, and began spinning the combination keys to her lock, tugging on it when the 4 digit number lined up.

No deal.

Confusion began to mar her brow as she spun the mechanism for a second time, until they showed 7475 again.

Still nothing.

Nerves thrummed under her skin as a million scenarios ran through her head.  _Someone had gotten into her bag and planted drugs. Someone had switched her combination, and now she’d never get in. Someone…_

_Oh shit._

With a stomach lined with dread, she hesitantly reached for the luggage tag, slowly flipped it over, fully expecting to see the blank luggage tag she’d realised all too late that she’d forgotten to complete.

_If found, please return to Peeta Mellark._

Oh shit.

********

It had his name, and two numbers - a US cell, and what she imagined was a UK cell number - and as Katniss stared out the window, she debated which one to call. In the end, she figured, if she was in the UK, and this guys suitcase was in the UK…then maybe that number made the most sense.

She was thinking about this too much already.

The line began to ring, once, twice, three times. And kept ringing. And ringing. And she was about half a second off hanging up when a deep male voice answered.

“Hello, this is Peeta.”

Katniss gripped the hem of her shirt, tugged lightly. For some reason, she hadn’t expected to hear an American accent. “Um, hi, er, um, hello….”

“Hi.” This time his voice was full of amusement. “Who’s this?”

Katniss flushed. “Oh, um, my name is Katniss, and I, uh, accidentally took your bag from the airport?”

She heard his yelp of delight down the phone. “Yes! Thank you! Ah, shit, I’ve been so worried! Well, not that it had anything of too much importance in there but…Thank you for calling me. I guess I have yours?”

“Grey and black stripes, orange locks and tags?”

“Yep, that’s the one. Except, uh, your luggage tag is a little useless. You don’t have anything written on it in case of situations like this.”

She sighed, dropped her head against the window frame. “Yeah, I know that. But I didn’t realise until I’d already checked in and it was long gone. But I didn’t really think there would be anyone else out there with the exact same suitcase and the exact same locks and tags. Especially on the same flight.”

“I thought the orange especially would make my suitcase stand out,” he agreed.

“Same. I wanted green, but my sister convinced me that no one ever voluntarily picks orange, and therefore there would be less of them, so I went with her idea.”

“Hey!” he laughed. “I  _wanted_  orange, and now I’m offended!”

Katniss cringed. “Oops. Sorry? Is that your favourite colour or something? Because if it is….I’m not sorry. Now I just feel sad for you.”

“Well, not exactly that shade, but yeah. And you didn’t offend me, I was just kidding…though maybe now I should be offended.”

Katniss found herself smiling - genuinely smiling - as she watched the evening sky begin to pearl through her window. “So, anyway, uh, I really need my suitcase. And I’m hoping you’re not going to tell me that you live in Scotland or something.”

Peeta laughed again. “No, actually, I’m not too far out of London. Where are you?”

She chewed on her bottom lip, wary enough of strangers not to tell him exactly where she was staying. “I’m in a hotel not too far away from Victoria Station - we could meet there?”

“Great!” he replied enthusiastically. “I can get to there pretty easily from my place.” He paused, and she waited in silence for him to continue. “Uh, do you really want to meet at the station, though? Just…it gets crazy busy there this time of the day, and I probably wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that probably isn’t a great idea.”

She heard him cough lightly. “Look, I know a pub - The Albert - that’s not too far away from the station. It’s pretty nice and gets us out of the hustle and bustle near the station and the theatres. And maybe we can shout each other a meal for our trouble?”

_Public place. A pub. A meal._

Her stomach growled almost as if on cue.

Okay. She could do this - it was just like a swap, like in those movies that Gale liked to watch. And if he was a creep, surely she could tell the bartender, and he could throw him out or whatever.

 _But_ , a little voice inside her head said,  _he doesn’t really sound like a creep, does he_?

“Alright, I’m happy with that,” Katniss agreed. “How long will it take you to get there?”

“30 minutes?”

“Okay, good. I’ll google it, and meet you there.”

“Alright great. See you then.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye - WAIT!”

Katniss’ eyes widened at the intensity of his tone. “What?”

He laughed, embarrassed. “Um, who am I looking for?”

“The girl with the suitcase,” she said wryly, and he laughed again.

“Right. Of course. I’ll be the guy with the suitcase.”

“And thank god for that,” Katniss replied. She hung up without another word.

********

Katniss did her best with the complimentary toiletries the hotel provided, and was ridiculously grateful that she’d had the foresight to at least pack a second t-shirt and pair of underwear into her carry on. She’d heard enough horror stories of Madge’s travels through Europe when she’d been a teenager to know that having at least part of a backup outfit on hand at all times was a smart thing to do.

So when she trudged out of the hotel 20 minutes later, Peeta Mellark’s suitcase in hand and the directions to the pub memorised in her head, she felt slightly more refreshed and calmer than she’d expected to.

The streets were busy with tourists and late-finishing workers alike, but not busy enough that she felt overwhelmed like she’d worried she’d be. Maybe people were already home, or still in the office or - more likely than anything else - at a pub, celebrating Friday night drinks.

She glanced up at the street sign when she reached an intersection, noted it was the one she was looking for, and studied the fanciful brick building across the other corner that was decorated with an abundance of flower-filled window boxes.

It was pretty, and looked quintessentially English. She loved it already.

Katniss waited for the lights to change, dragged the suitcase behind her as she crossed, then pushed through the wooden side door. It was more than half-full, most of the tables already taken, with a couple of guys waiting to be served at the bar. Ed Sheeran was playing over the speakers and a soccer game was on the TV; the light level of chatter made her feel instantly welcome.

Of course, the smell of the food was pretty damn enticing too.

She took a quick evaluation of the room, didn’t see anyone else with a suitcase, and moved through until she was wedged in the corner. Sitting here, the suitcase would be visible to anyone entering, but not in anyone else's way. Perfect.

Katniss perused the menu, and was so deep into her decision between the fish and chips or a burger that she didn’t notice the man in front of her until he cleared his throat.

“Katniss?” he asked, as she slowly looked up.

She nodded. “Peeta?”

“That’s me,” he said with a grin, stuck out his hand for her to shake. She took it, felt the warmth of his palm against hers; she felt the flutter in her stomach before she could even think twice.

Blond hair. Blue eyes. Broad shoulders and a million dollar smile.

Dammit.

Peeta Mellark was, undoubtedly, the hottest man she’d ever seen. 

Then her eyes narrowed as her gaze travelled over him again before landing back on his face, as her instant relief in knowing her suitcase was back gave way to the realisation that was setting in.

_And…you’ve seen him before._

********

_“I assure you, there must be some mistake.”_

_“Sir, as I said before, I don’t believe there is. Your ticket clearly states that your seat is in row 32, seat B.”_

_“But I asked for a window.”_

_The flight attendant, obviously frustrated by the man standing in front of her, smiled through thin lips. “And we do try and accommodate seat requests as often as possible, but unfortunately on flights as full as this, we can’t guarantee the preferences of every passenger.”_

_The man, regal looking with a strong posture and snow-white hair, thumped the end of his mahogany cane against the ground. “This is not good enough. I have been flying with your airline for more than twenty years and-”_

_“And many of our passengers checked in online 24 hours ago, Sir,” the flight attendant interrupted smoothly. “I’m sorry. There isn’t anything I can do.”_

_“I will have you know…”_

_Katniss slid down a little lower in her seat, hiding her face behind the trashy magazine she was only pretending to read as the old man began another tirade. The exchange between the man and the flight attendant - she was pretty sure she’d heard one of the other attendants call her Lavinia - had already been going on for 15 minutes, to the point where the passengers waiting at the gate were shifting uncomfortably in their chairs or, in the case of two douchenozzles in baseball caps, were holding up their iPhones, recording the increasingly awkward situation._

_“Well this is awkward,” the woman beside her said with a grimace. A few people around them nodded in agreement, shifting in their seats as the man’s voice rose another octave. He wasn’t shrill - it just made him seem even more…commanding?_

_Katniss nodded slowly as a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “That’s exactly what I was just thinking.”_

_“Honestly, you think he’d get the idea by now,” a guy across from them added, and Katniss glanced over at him, prepared to immediately agree with him too. She wasn’t expecting to be struck dumb by bright blue eyes that even the slight dark circles under them could dim. She swallowed heavily before replying, her throat oddly feeling like it was coated in glue as the words fought free._

_“Maybe…maybe he’s not used to hearing no.”_

_“Unfortunately, I think you’re right,” he smiled, showing a row of white teeth and a mouth that quirked up a little bit more on one side than the other, giving the overwhelming charm he exuded an additional sense of mischief. “But I’m sure there are plenty of people not getting seats beside the window.”_

_“Like me,” Katniss replied, though she didn’t add that was because she’d intentionally asked to not have a window. Luckily, her request had been met; the old man up there apparently wasn’t so lucky._

_The guy leant forward in his seat, rested his elbows on his knees. “That’s a shame. I always love looking out at wherever I’m arriving, or wherever I’m leaving.”_

_“I’m not worried,” Katniss shrugged. “Unlike some people.” She slid her eyes back over to where the man was now threatening to call his lawyer, then swung her eyes back to her magazine._

_Or at least, that had been her intention. Instead, she found herself staring straight at the blue eyes opposite her. And he smiled again._

_She ignored the weird stutter of her heart, and went back to pretending to care about the Kardashians._

********

“That was you!” Katniss suddenly blurted, her cheeks colouring. “At the airport gate back in New York.”

Peeta slid into the chair across from her, his grin widening as he pushed his - her - suitcase into the corner beside its twin. “I knew you looked familiar the minute I walked in here! It must be fate.”

“Pure coincidence,” Katniss countered, her hands clutching the menu in front of her. “Fate is for dreamers, like Delly, my neighbour.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, though the smile didn’t leave his face. “Well, think of me as a dreamer like Delly, then.” He leant forward in his chair, lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Though I think that passenger was a bit of a dreamer too, don’t you think?”

“Not a good one,” Katniss rolled her eyes. “I mean, who cares about your seat? I wonder where he ended up sitting.”

“32B, just like our friendly flight attendant told him he would be,” Peeta confirmed, straightening. “I know, because I was 30A, and even from two rows ahead, I heard  _alllllll_ about it for most of the flight. I felt sorry for the poor woman beside him.”

Katniss couldn’t help but smile. “Well, if anything good has come out of mixing up our suitcases, it’s me knowing that he didn’t get his way.”

Peeta picked up the menu in front of him, gestured towards her with it. “And having a good meal at an English pub.”

She lifted her eyebrow wryly. “I’m pretty sure I could have found a place to have a good meal all on my own.”

“And I’m pretty sure you were going to order room service for dinner,” he countered, then grinned as she scowled. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Don’t be so cocky. Can I remind you that your favourite colour is fluorescent orange? Because lame.”

“Not that shade of orange,” Peeta said, and though there was a slight whine to his tone, she somehow knew he was still joking around. “And anyway, there isn’t anything wrong at all with room service - I wouldn’t blame you after that flight. I was probably going to have something about as exciting as toast, so this is definitely an improvement.”

Katniss abruptly held her menu up to her face so she wouldn’t have to look at him. He was doing weird things to her insides every time he smiled or talked, and when the corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that made it look like his whole face was smiling.

This was, officially, the weirdest night of her life, Katniss decided. Not only was she in a pub in a foreign country, but she was sitting with a stranger whose suitcase she’d essentially stolen, ready to have dinner with him while they… _bantered_?  _After_  they’d already kind of/sort of met back at JFK?

“Evening. Can I just get you some drinks, or are you ready to order?”

Katniss lowered the menu slightly, looked up to see their waitress hovering beside them. The young woman - she couldn’t have been more than 22 - had long black hair, big brown eyes, a smattering of freckles, and a four leaf clover tattooed on the side of her neck, just below her ear.

“Not beer,” she said firmly, looking back down at the menu. “Maybe…maybe a cider? An Aspalls? And the fish and chips.“

“Sure. And you?” The waitress’ appreciative eyes switched to Peeta, who rattled off one of the burgers, and the name of some beer Katniss had never heard of. Even if she had, she probably wouldn’t have recognised it - she was too busy side-eyeing the waitress and her overly-obvious flirtation techniques.

The brunette left with a swish of her hips - that Katniss was oddly pleased that Peeta paid no attention to - leaving them in a silence that was both awkward and comfortable at the same time. So of course, when they both spoke next, it was over the top of each other.

“Thanks for the-”

“I’m really glad-”

They both laughed, and Peeta settled back in his seat slightly, lifted one leg so that his right foot was resting on his left knee. “Well, like that wasn’t a standard Hollywood movie awkward moment ice-breaker.”

Katniss smiled. “This whole day has kind of felt like a weird movie, to be honest. I slept late and had to get my sister to practically speed to the airport to get me there on time, with lots of cursing at other cars to get the hell out of our way, then we had the guy who demanded satisfaction at the gate.”  _Not to mention me thinking about your eyes a lot on the flight after we spoke._ “Then I had the guy next to me sleep on my shoulder all the way here - who was drunk by the way - and then I stole your suitcase.”

“Well, technically, we stole each others, so I’m sure it evens itself out. But - wait a minute. Our flight left JFK at 7.15 in the morning! The guy next to you was already drunk?”

“As a skunk,” Katniss confirmed. “Apparently an all-nighter, he managed to inform me in a solid five minutes of false sobriety.”

"They’re the worst,” Peeta sighed. “I’ve had a couple of those people sit beside me before, but never on a flight that early.”

“You travel often?”

Peeta nodded, looked up at the waitress to thank her as she placed their drinks down, then took a sip of his beer before answering. “My parents own a chain of bakeries over in the States, and they decided to open a couple up here. I used to come over every few months to see how things were going - then I moved here about 6 months ago, permanently, to oversee the business. It’s going okay.”

Katniss’ brow furrowed as his surname came back to her. “Hang on - you’re part of _Mellark’s_?”

He grinned broadly as he shifted in his seat, his leg dropping to the floor as he rested his elbows on the tabletop. “Yep! You know us?”

“Your buns got me through many a hangover. And finals. And hours waiting up for my sister when she was out on a date…” her cheeks burned as her words echoed back at her. “I…I mean the cinnamon buns from the bakery. Not your buns…I, uh…no.”

She cringed, hurriedly sipped at and swallowed a mouthful of cider, before chancing a glance back at him.

He was doing that smile again.

“It’s okay, I understood what you were saying,” he said. “And mostly the same for me - they’re my Achilles Heel, and I have to consider them a celebratory treat these days, otherwise I’d eat them all the time and look like the Michelin Man.”

“Well you  _definitely_  don’t,” she blurted without thinking.  _Oh my God, Katniss! What is wrong with you??? It must be jet lag. Change the topic, change the topic!_ “Urgh, anyway. I’m glad that this whole mixed up suitcase thing wasn’t a big ordeal, and I really do appreciate you bringing mine down here.”

“It wasn’t a problem at all,” he assured her. “I needed mine too, you know. Except I guess on vacation, you need things like clothes and stuff, whereas at least I still have my apartment here.”

“I’m not on vacation,” Katniss replied automatically, the same response she’d given anyone back home who’d reacted excitedly when she’d told them she was heading to London. “Business trip.”

“Ahhhhh,” Peeta replied. “Well, you’d still need your things.”

“True.”

“What kind of business is it you’re in?”

Katniss hesitated for a moment, before realising that she already knew his name, who he worked for and that he lived here permanently. The son of multi-millionaires -  _oh shit, was he a millionaire too???_  - surely wouldn’t give her all that info just to be a creep stalker.

Right?

“I specialise in sustainable design, and I’m attending a conference here this week,” she finally told him.

“Cool,” he replied. Their meals got placed in front of them, but this time, Peeta didn’t even look up. “We try to use a lot of recycled materials in the bakeries - they have a real industrial feel to them. A lot of wood, and we try to use solar energy, although that’s not as easy to come by in the UK.” He grinned, bit into a chip. “We actually used this company from New York when doing our redesign last year - Coin and Associates. You heard of them?”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Their work isn’t a favourite of mine, and their CEO is a real power-tripper. You should have gone with us.”

“And who’s us?”

 _Dammit. Now she’d have to tell him._ “Uh, Beetee Engineering and Design.”

Peeta’s eyes brightened. “They were our other choice; it was down to those two companies, but my Mom wanted to go with CAA.” He thumped a hand good naturedly down on the table. “Dammit, we could have been working with each other all this time. So much for that fate business.”

Katniss felt her heart skip a beat, and she concentrated on her fish like it was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen or tasted. Part of her was glad that they hadn’t chosen her company. Because if she’d had to work with him, she wasn’t sure how well she would have handled herself in that situation.

The whole ‘hottest man she’d ever seen’ thing could have been very problematic.

“Well, even if you went with them, they still managed to do a good job on your stores,” Katniss conceded. “I do like the style. It’s probably some of CAA’s better work.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You should be.” She nibbled on a chip, absently glanced out the window to the street outside. Sometime in the last half an hour, the last vestiges of the sun had finally disappeared, and the pub had gotten even more packed. No wonder Peeta kept leaning in to speak with her - the noise level, while not unbearable, had definitely gotten louder.

“Anyway, I’m fairly certain conferences always start on a Monday, right?”

Katniss lifted her head abruptly to tune into what Peeta was saying.

“Uh, what? Yeah, yeah it starts on Monday.”

“And it’s Friday. Which means you have two whole days free before then. What were you going to do?”

“Oh.” Katniss pushed her braid behind her shoulder. “I guess wander around. Look at things.”

“Want a guide?”

“Huh?”

He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, as though he was nervous or something, and his voice dropped slightly. She didn’t know whether she loved or hated the way it seemed to drift along her skin like silk. “I don’t have to be back at work until Monday, and although I’m an expat, I know my way around pretty well. So, if you’d like to…I’m offering. To be your guide, that is.”

She studied her food again, speared a chunk of fish and ate it, chewing it possibly 30 million times before she felt like she was ready to answer. Because why not? It would save her time, surely, and she could avoid getting lost. And…well…he really was good looking. And nice. And friendly. And he’d brought her suitcase back and hadn’t been the slightest bit put out by the fact that he’d had to come back out after getting home after a long flight.

“O-okay,” Katniss finally said. “I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he agreed, and lifted his glass in a mock toast.

She took another sip of her drink, looked at the way he smiled at her, and wondered if she maybe liked it a little  _too_  much.


End file.
